


Songs

by Amymel86



Series: The Reality of Dreams [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Catelyn Lives AU, Drabble, F/M, Prophetic Dreams, sansa is changed, slightly feral jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: “Sansa, stop it.”“It’s true, Jon.”“Aye, and we’re to just trust in your dreams, is it? I have dreams too – violent dreams of snapping a silver dragon’s neck with my own hands. That’s to be believed too, I suppose?”One side of her mouth lifts into a smile before she turns back toward the weeping sap of the heart tree to continue her strange song.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: The Reality of Dreams [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123928
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134
Collections: Jonsa New Year Drabbles





	Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Guys - idk where I'm going with this so bear with me here as I'm just messing around with this idea...

**Songs**

Sansa spends a lot of time in the Godswood – much more than Jon ever remembers her doing as a child. He and his other siblings were always running, shrieking through the trees, disrupting the sleepy Gods with shouts, laughter and splashes in the hot springs.

Sansa is not nearly so loud, though he hears her all the same; a soft melody on the air. A gentle humming of an unfamiliar tune amongst the singing of unfamiliar lyrics.

He approaches, silent as snowfall.

The wolf in him can smell her from here. How easy it would be to pounce, catch her unawares, to have her on her back in the dead leaves and mud, the soft, vulnerable skin of her throat exposed so he could –

_So he could what?_

Jon can practically feel what it would be like to swipe his tongue across her neck, have her swallow beneath his mouth, make her pulse thrum against the scraping of his teeth.

_Stop it, beast._

He moves closer, hidden by the underbrush and thick tree trunks.

His sister is still singing her sweet song.

He’s mesmerised. Too caught in her melody to notice the dry twig his boot is about to meet.

The snap has her song suffer a swift death in her throat. She spins, pulling a dagger free of her belt to point in his direction.

Jon raises a brow. How his sister has changed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sansa tucks the weapon away, turning back to gift him a smile instead of a blade.

“Nice song,” he says, seating himself on one of the huge roots of the weirwood tree. “Is it southern?”

Sansa’s spine stiffens and Jon tells the beast not to notice how the position causes her breasts to jut forward. “No,” she says, kneeling. “The song belongs to the Old Gods.”

Jon snickers. There are no Gods – old or new. He tilts his head as he watches her. “Learn that from one of your dreams?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrow. Leaning forward, some of her fire-licked hair tickles his nose. “One of your dreams where you allow you bastard brother to _fuck_ you?” he rasps in her ear.

She blinks at him, her face so close to his that he can see the constellations of her freckles that splatter across the bridge of her nose. “Yes,” she answers honestly - _eagerly_. Jon straightens. He’d meant to unnerve her, toy with her a little, shock her out of this lunacy, push her to see how far this dirty revelation actually goes. “Right here,” she pats the ground by her knees. “You sup between my thighs –“

“ _Sansa_ ,” he protests, standing.

“-Before you take me hard from behind like an animal. _Like a wolf_.”

Jon can feel his cock swelling in his breeches.

“Sansa, stop it.”

“It’s true, Jon.”

“Aye, and we’re to just trust in your dreams, is it? I have dreams too – violent dreams of snapping a silver dragon’s neck with my own hands. That’s to be believed too, I suppose?”

One side of her mouth lifts into a smile before she turns back toward the weeping sap of the heart tree to continue her strange song.

Jon should probably leave but he does not. Instead, he seats himself back down on the tree root and watches her, imagining the acts she describes from her dreams – of tasting his sister’s cunt and rutting into her on the dirty ground. He is painfully hard now.

Why is she not disgusted by these dreams?

Reaching forward, Jon manages to cut her song off for the second time, slipping his cool gloved fingers beneath her chin, turning her to face him. She wets her lips with a roll of her tongue.

“Do you _want_ them to happen?” he asks, breath swirling in the icy air between them. “The things in your dreams?”

“ _Sansa!”_ the Lady of the castle calls, feet crunching as she marches forward. She says nothing to Jon, only giving him a look that spoke a thousand words of warning as she hooked her hand under her daughter’s arm and pulled her up and away from him. “ _Stay away from him_ ,” she hisses in Sansa’s ear, dragging her back to the keep.

Irritation scratches at his insides. “ _I’m_ not the one who talks of being defiled by my own brother, Lady Stark,” he calls.

Catelyn Stark whirls around, anger blazing in her eyes. “ _You don’t breathe a word of this ever again!”_ she demands. “Am I understood?”

He bows his head to her order with a smirk on his lips, though he cannot help himself when he dips even lower toward Sansa. “Pleasant dreams, sweet sister.”


End file.
